Overnight
by bikelock28
Summary: "He closes his eyes, takes a breath- and then he's back from panic-land to being her usual charming and cocky Barney Stinson, 'So you're staying over. That ain't no thing,'"...Robin stays the night at Barney's for the first time. Set between seasons 4 and 5.


**Robin spends the night at Barney's for the first time. Set between S4 and S5, probably June 2009. T for language and sex. I don't own HIMYM or characters (or ****_Batman_**** franchise). I really hope you enjoy.**

_ I wanna, I wanna, I wanna touch you-_

_ You wanna touch me too,_

_ Every day but all I have is time,_

_ Our love's the perfect crime._

_ I wanna, I wanna, I wanna touch you-_

_ You wanna touch me too,_

_ Every way and when they set me free,_

_ Just put your hands on me!_

- All American Rejects

Overnight

**20:27**

She knocks on the door. He opens it.

"Oh, hi," he sounds surprised; she usually calls before coming over, or they meet up at lunch or sneak away from MacLaren's together in the evening.

"Ted's away tonight," she tells him.

"How come?"

"His professor training's been re-arranged or something so he's finishing late tonight and starting early tomorrow, and he thought he might as well stay the night in college halls, instead of coming home and then going back early tomorrow morning," Robin explains hurriedly. In truth, Ted's had this arrangement in the calendar for a couple of weeks. She knew it would be the perfect opportunity to stay the night at Barney's- except she anticipated that he'd freak about that. So Robin's plan had been to simply turn up at Barney's place tonight and tell him that Ted had had a last-minute change of plans.

"I thought I'd stop over,"

"Cool," he says, letting her in- then adds warily, "So you're- you're staying the night?"

"Um, yeah," she feigns an offhand uncertainty, "If you want,"

She didn't bring an overnight bag, because she knows that to Barney nothing screams Relationship like a duffle bag and a toothbrush.

"Yeah- no. Okay," he mumbles, "Right,"

He closes his eyes, takes a breath- and then he's back from panic-land to being her usual charming and cocky Barney Stinson, "So you're staying over. That ain't no thing,"

"Nope," she agrees carelessly, like it's casual and doesn't matter.

"So, we've got…time," he says (she can hear in his voice that he's trying to play it cool), "What do you want to do?"

"Well," she runs her index finger over his shoulders, "How about you give me some proper foreplay this time?"

"What? I always give you foreplay!" Barney splutters, "I'm the king of Foreplay!"

"Sticking your hand up my skirt when we're sitting next to each other in the booth before we do it in the ladies' room, does not count as foreplay,"

His eyes don't leave hers, "Well it seems to work for you,"

She hates the way he makes her blush. She hates that he knows she hates it. She hates that he loves that she knows that he knows she hates it, and that he'll take any opportunity to make her do it.

Robin kisses him to shut him up, and her hands find his collar and his find her hips. She feels him try to slip his tongue between her lips- but if he's going to tease her, she'll tease him right back.

"Going slow, okay?" Robin whispers.

* * *

><p><strong>20:48<strong>

"Is this what you classify as 'proper foreplay'?" Barney asks between kisses, half- on top of her on the couch. They're both still fully clothed and have barely got to second base.

"Yeah. This is what-" she cuts herself off abruptly before she says _what boyfriends do, _"What, um, what girls like,"

"Come off it, Scherbatsky- you're as bored as I am," Barney grumbles, "Can we cut to the chase already?"

"Five more minutes. Then perhaps some hand stuff for a while,"

He leans away from her, frowning, "Seriously? I know this is only to annoy me,"

"Is it working?"

"Yes," he admits.

"Ten minutes,"

* * *

><p><strong>21:23<strong>

"Totally worth the elongated foreplay," Barney breathes, as she rolls off him onto her back, "Totally…_totally _worth it,"

"Glad you thought so. See how eager women are to please when you give them a bit of attention before sticking your dick in them?"

"You should write poetry,"

* * *

><p><strong>21:44<strong>

"You got anything to eat?" she asks, rooting through his kitchen cupboards.

"Nope," he replies carelessly.

"Seriously, nothing?"

"Have you checked the fridge?" he asks, "If the fridge is empty, then no,"

"Your fridge contains a packet of salted peanuts, a six-pack of Red Bull, three bottles of Budweiser and a packet of ham,"

"You can sort out a dinner from that, kiddo," he shrugs.

"Don't call me that. Ew, you're not my dad,"

"S'what my Mom always said to us," Barney replies, so quietly that she doesn't hear it.

"Is the ham even in date?"

"No idea- but hey, you never throw the milk out at your apartment when it's gone off, do you?" he points out (it's Ted's number one complaint about his room-mate).

"And Ted doesn't throw away his shampoo bottles when they're empty, but that's beside the point. Don't you eat at all?

"I eat candy and peanuts-"he explains, "But I don't eat _dinner _at home. Not often anyway. I just don't need to eat very much,"

"You sound like one of America's Next Top Models,"

"I'm going to assume that was a compliment," Barney decides, "Do you want take-out? I think there's a couple of menus stuffed in my newspaper-holder,"

* * *

><p><strong>22:13<strong>

"And then he's like, 'Yeah, but we can't refund the money,' and I'm like, 'But I had to use my card twice at the station so it charged me double,' and he's like 'There's nothing we can do,' and I mean, there obviously was because there's refund slips and stuff and- Barney, are you even listening?"

"Of course I'm listening. You; subway; douche of a security man; refund slips and stuff," (he's not really paying attention; he's enjoying the fact that they're sitting on his couch together eating pizzas and Robin's feet are on his lap. He's also trying to ignore how frightening this level of homeliness is).

"Yeah, and- oh my God, it was so annoying,"

"That's why you don't take the subway," he says smugly.

"No, the reason _you _don't take the subway is that last time you got stuck on it for three hours," Robin teases, kicking his leg.

"Don't remind me. _I know where the trains turn round," _he whispers, wide-eyed.

"And where do the trains turn round?" she asks him.

"I can't say. It'd be like… saying where Hogwarts is,"

"Saying what your job is," she suggests.

Barney grins. "Exactly. Like saying who Dr Z was,"

"Ooh, that's one of the great mysteries of the world, who Dr Z was. Or is it Dr X?"

"Either way, we'll never know," he says resignedly, allowing a pause to settle.

They catch each other's' eyes and burst out laughing.

* * *

><p><strong>22:39<strong>

The TV show she was half-watching finishes, so she goes into the bedroom to look for him. What she finds is Barney, doing press-ups on the floor with his eyes closed and his suit stacked neatly beside him.

Robin clears her throat. He ignores her and keeps counting under his breath.

"What are you doing?" she asks.

"Exercising. Forty-eight. I have to –forty-nine-do a hundred of these- fifty- plus a hundred sit-ups-fifty-one- and chin ups every –fifty-two-night,"

"Why?"

"Fifty-three. I have to, it's-fifty-four-what I do. Plus gym. Don't mock-fifty-five- you're the one who feels the—fifty-six- benefit of it in-fifty-seven- bed,"

"Are you sure this isn't just a part of your narcissist complex?"

"What's- sixty-one that got to do- sixty-two- with it? It's only- sixty-three- keeping fit. You sound like- sixty-four- that therapist I went to one-sixty-five- time Anyway, narcissism's a-sixty-six- personality disorder not a- sixty-seven- complex. Do your research,"

"Well, I'll leave you alone with your personality disorder. You two must be very happy together," she says, shutting the door behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>23:08<strong>

"How can you possibly say that?" he asks incredulously.

"It's got a better plot, and Scarecrow is under-rated as a villain. He's so creepy,"

"Yeah but he's not the Joker," Barney argues, "The Joker _alone_ is reason for _Dark Knight_'s superiority,"

"See, you admit it- if the Joker's the only reason _Dark Knight_ is the best one, that proves that _Batman Begins _is better in every other way,"

"But the battle at the end of it is so fake,"

"The plot's better though. The plot of _Dark Knight _just goes on in some contrived swirl of confusion," she remarks, "The bomb and the boats- what was that bit even about?"

"You're confusing confusion with cleverness. _Dark Knight _is clever and more, like, physiological drama-ey. _Batman Begins _is too slow. And to prove it," he announces, "We'll watch them both now. I think I've got the DVD somewhere,"

Barney bounds off the bed to look for it, but stops when he hears Robin clear her throat behind him. He turns around to see her biting her lip and slowly dropping her t-shirt to the floor.

"Or…" she says temptingly, "_Or_…"

Friendly bickering mode has been dropped in favour of hot-for-each- other mode as she casually and confidently stretches her body out, holding his gaze with a knowing look.

Batman can wait.

* * *

><p><strong>23:46<strong>

"Again?"

"How many times have we done it now tonight?"

"Um, two, I think. Four including earlier,"

"Yeah, okay. Again,"

* * *

><p><strong>00:07<strong>

Exhaling, he drops a few kisses onto her face, then pushes himself up and begins to move away from her, but she holds him tight around his shoulders, keeping his chest pressed against hers. Barney cocks an eyebrow.

"Stay," she mutters.

"What, inside you?"

She kisses his chin, then his lips.

"Yeah. You don't have to pull out straight away,"

"Why? We're done for this time, aren't we?"

"I know, but," one hand strokes his neck and her eyes don't meet his, "'S nice,"

* * *

><p><strong>00:14<strong>

It doesn't surprise her that Barney sleeps naked. Considering he wants to go into his coffin in the nude, it's obvious that he'd roll over and sleep after sex without bothering to put on pyjamas (it only occurs to Robin later that she didn't ask about his suitjamas). But sleeping –literally sleeping- beside him naked bothers her for some reason- perhaps it'd feel too much like they were really dating- although she didn't bring an overnight bag for fear of spooking him.

"Hey, d'you have anything for me to sleep in?" she asks.

"The bed. Unless you're planning on the floor,"

"No, idiot- _clothes _for me to sleep in. Pyjamas,"

He probably has a whole cupboard full of nighties and negligees, but she'd prefer not think about that- and for once Barney seems to have enough sense not to mention it.

"No," he says bluntly. "Pyjamas'll only get in the way of our 2am bang,"

She rolls her eyes, "You're ridiculous,"

Barney rolls his eyes right back, says, "G'night, Scherbatsky," turns onto his side and is silent.

Robin can't think of anything else to do, so she climbs out of bed, slips on his boxers and dress shirt from where they landed on the floor earlier, and climbs back into bed.

She sleeps with her back to him.

* * *

><p><strong>00:41<strong>

Sharing a bed is so boring, he thinks. He's got half as much space, and Robin isn't even awake to talk to or have sex with. Ordinarily, Barney wakes up in the night fairly often, but it's different when there's someone beside you. Bad different. He wants to watch TV but that'll only wake her up. Barney wonders what Marshall does when _he _wakes up in bed (not that he's trying to be Marshall-ish in _any way. _And, frankly, Marshall and Lily are so conjoined that they probably wake up and fall asleep together simultaneously. But, okay, overlooking what- if he were Marshall and Robin were Lily, what would he do right now?) Watch her? It's sickeningly lame and romantic (he shudders) but Barney can't think of anything else, so he props his chin up on his hands and gazes at Robin for a few moments. She's beautiful, obviously. She's wearing his shirt- which he has to admit is hot, as well as giving him a peculiar nice-but-not-nice feeling in his stomach. Apart from that, she's, um...breathing. Breathing slowly with her eyes closed. Not moving. Eyes closed. Still not moving. Still breathing…forget it; this is boring. It's not doing anything for him. Perhaps this is what guys in relationships do, but Barney_ isn't_ in a relationship, thank you very much. His arrangement (he can't think what else to call it) with Robin is about sex, and joking around together, and laughter, and cigars and alcohol. It is not about anything which could be perceived as cute. They haven't exactly discussed this (why waste mouths on talking) but that's certainly what he wants from this, and he's sure Robin feels the same. Sure, she dated Ted for a year but, they all know that at heart she dislikes anything lovey-dovey. He's known her to break up with a guy for leaving a couple of notes around, and he's known her to sleep with a man on the first date. Or not after date at all. Or just because they was there… thinking about all this makes Barney even more tempted to wake Robin up for sex- but he senses that she's be mad at him, and not in the angry-sex way. Perhaps he can still have some fun without waking her up, though (okay, fine- _trying_ to wake her up, but attempting to be vaguely subtle about it). Barney reaches over to his bedside cabinet, opens the door takes out a bottle of scotch (Ted would probably freak about this and drag him to an AA meeting, but as far as Barney's concerned his secret stash of bedside booze isn't a big deal, and it certainly isn't anyone else's business).

There's about half of the bottle left, and he takes a swig then gently pushes the duvet off Robin (she's wearing his boxers as well, he notes, feeling that half-lust, half-something-else-he-doesn't-know-the-name-for again), moves his shirt she's wearing aside (he allows himself a long look at her boobs) and pours a few drops of scotch into her navel. Barney moves his face over her and laps the scotch with his tongue. Robin doesn't move so he has another go- except this time she mutters in her sleep and pushes his head away. A wiser man, Barney thinks to himself, would stop now- but where would be the fun in that? He pours another few drops of scotch into her navel, and moves his mouth over her again.

He's lapping up the last few drops - when Robin screams and sits up, and he jumps away from her.

"Barney, what the hell?!"

The scotch is spilling out of the bottle, so he grabs it quickly and stands it upright on his bedside table.

"Oh my God, what were you _doing_ to me?!"

"Nothing!" he protests, holding his hands up, "I wasn't-"

"You were- I was- I was _asleep!"_

"Yes, I know, okay?I was bored, I was only-" he holds up the bottle as if it'll prove his innocence.

"You were only licking scotch off me while I was asleep? Do you have anyidea how _weird_ that is?"

"I was _bored_," he whines.

"You know what? Forget it," she snaps back, "I'm going to sleep, don't touch me,"

She rolls over and doesn't say another word.

Barney puts the scotch back in the cabinet.

* * *

><p><strong>07:54<strong>

Since Robin wakes up for work at 3 am, 7:30 is now regarded as a weekend lie-in. She can't say she's pleased with this turn of events, but that's where life's led her (she supposes she has the blond asleep beside her to thank for the fact that she at least has a job and didn't get deported back to Canada).

He's lying on his back, arms by his sides (Ted once joked that Barney must sleep in a coffin, and there_ is_ something corpse-like about his current position. Corpse-like or Dracula-like, she thinks to herself. Barney would probably like the latter comparison). Robin runs a hand through his hair and across his collar bones, and is half-temped to wake him up like he did with her earlier…but Barney's apartment has always been a source of mystery, and she's hardly likely to get a better opportunity to explore it than when he's sleeping.

Robin gets out of bed, and starts in the bathroom. She's been in there a few times before, but never with the time to explore properly. The room, like everything else in his apartment, is grey and angular. There's a bath on one side, a shower on the other and a sink with a huge mirror between them- opposite his toilet, with the unputdownable seat he proudly showed them the first time they all visited. She shakes her head in affectionate exasperation- Barney doesn't think of everything_; _he thinks of anything that nobody else would think of.

She remembers Lily telling her that he only has one towel- but the rail beside the shower has three of varying sizes. On the shelf inside the shower are six transparent bottles without labels on. When she opens one and takes a sniff, it smells of citrus and orange and Barney- but most of all it smells of money. The guy must be seriously loaded. There's a range of different coloured soaps neatly in a line on the side of the bath as well.

Robin gives up on the bathroom, and remembers Lily telling her about Barney's second bedroom/ suit room. The door is through the one in his main bedroom, and when she opens it- well, the room's full of suits, obviously. _Full _of suits- she can't really tell where it ends because it seems to be a labyrinth of rails. From what she can see, the suits (fifty? A hundred? Five hundred?) are ordered by colour, with grey at the front, stretching back to navy and then black, then to khaki and brown. The suit room has that money smell, too. It's also colder than the rest of the apartment, which she assumes must be because of a special optimum temperature for fabric. Robin takes a couple of steps inside and runs a hand down the sleeve of a suit.

Then someone clears their throat behind her. She turns around slowly.

"What. Are you doing in there?"

Barney's standing a few feet away from her wearing a black dressing gown which goes down to his ankles, hands on hips with one eyebrow raised and the other low over his eye in an _I'm-watching-you _expression.

"I woke up. I got bored so I went exploring,"

He puts his hands in his dressing gown pockets; swaggers forward (she hates- _hates- _cocky guys who think they can boss women around, and she hates herself for finding Barney- the cockiest guy in the world- so sexy right now) and leans on the doorframe.

"That's my suit room," he jerks his head, "Get out,"

"Are you telling me what to do?" she scoffs.

"My apartment, my rules, my suit room- and nobody's allowed in there except me. So yeah, I am telling you what to do. Get out,"

His voice is calm but cold, and she can't tell if he's putting it on or if he's properly angry. She pouts and he holds his hand out to her as if he's trying to talk her out of doing something silly.

Robin doesn't move and they're locked in a stalemate, eyes fixed on one another's. His look pale in the morning light, and in those eyes there's determination and smugness, and a trace of confused boyish indignance that anyone's dared to go inside the room which-to Barney's mind- is his and his alone.

Christ, she's crazy about him. Absolutely a hundred per cent mad about this broken blond boy with the blue eyes and black dressing gown. It's love and lust and wanting to protect him, but she's not going to analyse because he's standing there holding his stupid hand out and thrusting his chin forward and then he blinks once, twice. Robin doesn't register the decision to let him win this one (which is unusual, because everything about them has always been about power and winning. It's probably why they both enjoy bondage), she only registers putting her arms round his neck and how visceral their kissing feels.

She's vaguely aware of him hooking an arm around her waist and them stumbling together into the bathroom, but honestly by now she's just lost.

* * *

><p><strong>8:06<strong>

She's undressing. In front of him. Robin Scherbatsky is taking off _his _shirt in _his _bathroom and then standing under _his _shower with _his _face in her boobs and her fingers in _his _hair.

Barney wishes he could stop shaking.

* * *

><p><strong>08:25<strong>

He looks innocent under the water. With his eyes closed and his hair dampened to brown under the spray, Barney looks a lot younger than he actually is (how old is he again? Thirty-two? Thirty-three, four, five? His birthday's November, but as Robin recalls he's often inconsistent about his age. It's one of the many things she doesn't know about him; like where he went to college and what he studied, like what his job is- he's never explicitly specified if his name is Barnabus, Barnaby or simply Barney. She's in love with a man and she doesn't know his name. But with his breath against her neck and the feeling of his wet, hard muscles under her palms as she rubs circles on his chest, Robin doesn't mind).

* * *

><p><strong>08:35<strong>

He wraps a towel around his waist and reaches into the cupboard beside the sink.

"Give me sec," he mutters, taking out his shaving equipment.

"Please. You couldn't grow a beard if you tried," she mocks, putting his shirt on again, "No way do you need to shave every day,"

"I do," he says defensively, rubbing the little bristles on his chin to prove it, "See,"

Barney turns back to the sink, lathers up his face and reaches for his razor- but she stops him.

"Here, let me," she says.

"What- shave me?" he scoffs, "No way,"

"You think I'll screw it up?"

"Yes," he says, as seriously as he can when half of his face is covered with shaving foam.

"Try me,"

"You're kidding. No way,"

"You don't trust me," she challenges.

"I don't trust anybody with something as precious as my face,"

Barney peers into the mirror again (she's wrong, he thinks to himself- he totally could grow a beard if it wasn't outlawed by the Bro Code), but then he feels Robin's warmth pressed against his back, and in the mirror he sees her hands wrap around his stomach from behind. Barney feels her fingers trace his abdominals, and the trail of her lips across his shoulder blades, his neck, his hairline, his jaw.

"I said try me," she mumbles softly into his skin.

God, he loves this girl. "Fine,"

Barney leans his back against the wall and hands her the razor. Robin pushes his chin up, then pulls the skin on his cheek taught with her thumb. Barney winces when she touches the razor to his face and scrapes it across his skin. She does it again, slightly further along his cheek, then again, then she wipes the razor on one of the towels stacked by the sink. She continues to move further across his face, then to the other cheek, then his top lip, then his chin. Barney tries to concentrate on breathing; tries to ignore the tension- but when Robin moves his chin up a little more to get at his neck, he can't help but let out a squeak of panic through his teeth.

"You scared or something?" she challenges.

"Scared you're going to cut my jugular- yeah,"

Robin blows a kiss to his face, "I can't promise anything,"

She touches the razor to Barney's neck, pressing slightly harder than he knows she knows she should do, making him squeak nervously again through clenched teeth. She scrapes the razor up his neck slowly, flicking it off at the sharp point of his chin. She moves it along does another stroke. He can feel the cold metal though his skin, sharp against his voice box and veins.

Barney can't remember being more turned on.

Robin's leaning against him and they're both only half dressed and her hand's on his jaw and her breath's on his face and she's holding a razor to his throat.

He always did love a risk.

Since he's only wearing a towel and her body is pressed against his from knees to stomach, Robin can probably tell how hard he is, and he's trying not to fidget for obvious razor-related reasons, but Barney's every instinct is telling him to haul her back into the shower and fuck until they don't know their own names. She touches the razor to his neck again (it's cold on his hot skin), slightly further along, scoops it upwards to his chin. Lust is thick on Barney's tongue but he can't swallow it down otherwise his Adam's apple will bob and she'll cut him. Robin's eyes are glued to his face- which he should probably be grateful for because she's concentrating - but God, he wants her to look into his eyes and see how_ alive_ she makes him.

There's nothing Barney can do to relieve the torture so he screws his eyes shut tight and begins to mentally recite all the members the fifty home runs club in date order. He gets down to struggling to remember who the forth guy to hit fifty home runs in 1998 was (Sosa, Griffey, McGwire and…? Is it Anderson again?), when he hears Robin put down the razor and announce, "All done,"

Barney breathes a sigh of relief and opens his eyes, as she pats his face dry with the towel.

"There- you survived, didn't you?" she says sweetly, batting her eyes at him.

She laughs, leans into kiss him- but before she can he thinks he might explode and he's wrestling his shirt off her and dragging her into the shower.

* * *

><p><strong>09:13<strong>

She's brushing her hair with his hairbrush. He doesn't like that.

* * *

><p><strong>09:38<strong>

"On average how long does it take you to choose a suit?" she calls through the closed suit room door. He's been in there twenty minutes already- which she could understand if he was going out, or to an important meeting- but it's a Saturday and she knows that all Barney's going to do is play Laser Tag and hang out in MacLaren's, so it's ridiculous that he should take this long.

"I don't monitor," comes his irritated reply, "It isn't a science. It's about_ feeling_ which suit suits today. What suit do I want to wear today; which suit wants to be worn today? It's an art,"

"It's Goddamn getting dressed,"

"Oh ye of little faith," he sing-songs. Robin drums her fingers on her knee and sighs, annoyed.

"The suits, the exercising- you take so long to do _everything," _

Instantly, the suit room door opens and Barney's face appears, grinning lecherously at her, "_Everything?" _he enquires, waggling his eyebrows.

"Shut up," she deadpans

He giggles in his annoying, smug way, and she throws her shoe at him. His head disappears back inside the suit room, and the shoe bounces off the door.

* * *

><p><strong>10:01<strong>

"Our names are anagrams of each other's," she says, putting the crossword down, "Almost,"

"Yeah?" he frowns.

"Think about it. Robin could be Borni, and Barney could be Ryban. Or Rabyn,"

"What about the E? My name's got an E in it," Barney points out. He doesn't like the idea that he has her name in his. It's the sort of poetic coincidence which Ted would appreciate, but it makes Barney uncomfortable.

"Oh yeah, I forgot about the E," says Robin, "Rybane then,"

"Borni and Rybane? Sounds like a Swedish health food shop,"

* * *

><p><strong>10:28<strong>

"I've got Laser Tag at eleven thirty, so…"

"So I should get out of here,"

"Yes, you should," he says unapologetically (in truth, he's relieved that he's got an excuse. Not that he doesn't enjoy having her here, but he doesn't want her to think he wants her to stay. He doesn't want her thinking this is…something it isn't. Because it isn't what it isn't, okay?).

"Cool," she answers.

See, that's what he likes about this arrangement- they each do their own thing. They don't need to be together all the time and they don't check up on each other. They're two separate entities who come together to- well, _come_ together, and perhaps chat and bicker and eat pizza- but then they go back to being individual units. That's why he loves- likes- this arrangement, and he likes that Robin feels the same. But it's the arrangement he likes the most; the no-strings-attached sex, not the woman he's having it with.

Yeah.

* * *

><p><strong>10:31<strong>

"'Kay, I'll see you later. You coming to MacLaren's tonight?"

"Probably," she shrugs.

"See you there, then,"

"Yup,"

She kisses him on the mouth- kissing him goodbye is complicated because a goodbye peck is too mundane girlfriend-ish (and, frankly, too dispassionate) but a slow French kiss is too romantic, and a real intense kiss will inevitably end up with them in bed again-so she kisses him without tongue, and without pulling him into an embrace.

When they break apart she mutters, "Thanks,"

"Mmkay," says Barney, "Bye,"

She walks out of the door. He shuts it.

**Fin.**

**Thank you for reading. I hope your liked this story. If or if you loved it, hated it, or feel indifferent- please review. Thank you very much.**


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